Prophecy of War
by TheHunter747
Summary: A far more cunning Harry, who is ready to accept and embrace his Slytherin side -with mild kleptomaniacal tendencies- deals with the Department of Mysteries incident, and begins to prepare Britain for war. After all, no one said humans were the only ones with something at stake in this war, did they? Featuring Dumbledore being Dumbledore, Snape being Snape, and Luna being Luna. AU.


A/N: I keep being bitten by plot bunnies recently. I should put up a fence to keep them away. As is becoming depressingly standard, I don't own anything contained in this story, unless otherwise pointed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~PROPHECY~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry reached out and grabbed the prophecy, lifting it off the shelf and examining it. A voice, slippery and cunning as always, sounded from behind him.

"Very good, Potter. Now, turn around and hand me that prophecy."

Turning round, Harry came face to face with none other than Lucius Malfoy. And beside the blond man were at least five others, all but one of them in Death Eater robes. The final Death Eater was a woman, with hair that could rival Harry's in terms of how untamed it looked, robes that were ripped everywhere along their length, and a wild, almost feral look in her eyes. Harry recognized her from the front page of the Daily Prophet - Bellatrix Lestrange, right hand woman to Voldemort, and the woman who had tortured Neville's parents into insanity. From the sound Neville made at the sight of her, he knew who she was too.

"Malfoy. Where's Sirius?"

Surprisingly, it was Lestrange who answered, her high pitched, insane cackle sending shivers down Harry's spine.

"What's the matter, Potty? Is Siwius not here? Maybe he wasn't here at all? Maybe my Lord set a trap, and you blundered right into it, hmm? Itty bitty Potter, all on his own, nobody coming to save him this time." Bellatrix had a mocking parody of a pout on her lips that no one could see without shuddering. Even her fellow Death Eaters looked disturbed by her.

"This was a trap? Voldemort set it?" Lestrange looked murderous.

"You dare to speak his name?" The first part was said in a complete whisper. "YOU FILTHY HALF-BLOOD!"

"Now, now," Malfoy held up a single, gloved hand, restraining Lestrange. "Let's all just, calm down, shall we? Hand us the prophecy, and we will let your friends go, Potter. Their safety guaranteed. Surely you don't value that little glass ball more than your friends' lives, do you?"

Damn him. Damn Lucius Malfoy to the blackest pits of Hell's deepest circle. _'__Then again,'_ Harry thought to himself,_ 'he probably crawled out of them in the first place.'_ Of course Harry didn't value the prophecy more than his friends. Hell, he had only just discovered that it existed, for crying out loud! But Voldemort wanted it, and Harry couldn't just let the snake faced bastard get his scaly claws on it. But maybe...

"If you want the prophecy, I want something in return, Malfoy." Malfoy's face contorted into something midway between a grimace and a snarl.

"And if I decline?"

"We'll see if this prophecy can survive a point-blank Reducto."

Malfoy actually flinched backwards at that. Harry inwardly cheered at the slip, as it told him that whatever this prophecy was, Voldemort had ordered Malfoy not to let anything happen to it. Now that he thought about it, the other Death Eaters looked nervous as well. Except that one on the left, the tall one whose hair wasn't quite covered by his mask and hood. From what Harry could see, he looked...pleased? Hopeful? Impressed? Harry wasn't sure, but promised himself to keep an eye on that one.

"What do you want?" Brusque and snappish. Malfoy was more nervous than Harry had thought. That was both good and bad. Good because he'd be more likely to slip up further, but bad because he now had an itchy trigger finger, to borrow the Muggle phrase.

"You take us back to the Atrium of the Ministry. Once we're there, and the others have gone back to Hogwarts, I'll give you the prophecy." This statement set off a flurry of comments about not abandoning him and such, from everyone except Luna and Neville. Neville because he trusted Harry - for some odd reason - and Luna...well frankly Harry wasn't entirely sure Luna realized they were even in danger. Then again, if his plan worked, they wouldn't be, so maybe her silence was reassuring?

"Fine. Follow us." Huh. Malfoy really must want the prophecy quite badly not to even consider trying to bargain with them. Or maybe he didn't think a Gryffindor could have a cunning plan? Harry would have snorted, if not for the situation. If the plans had been up to him over the years, there would have been far less danger. But of course, by the time anyone was willing to listen to his ideas, things were already so badly FUBAR - he really loved that term - that he had no choice but to go charging in headfirst like a Gryffindor. Really, just once he would like to indulge himself in a bit of Slytherin-esque plotting. But of course, Harry Potter was a Gryffindor, so simply couldn't possibly have any Slytherin traits whatsoever. Not that it had stopped him from secretly nicking a Time-Turner on the way in, though. Hey, you never knew when you might need an emergency 'let's-fuck-up-the-timeline-and-create-another-paradox' moment like his third year, as he liked calling it.

Come to think of it, he now had - almost literally - all the time in the world. Who said the situation had to be FUBAR right now. A glint appeared in Harry's eye, one that, if anyone had seen it besides Luna Lovegood, they would have shuddered in terror. As it was, only Luna was looking, so only she saw it, and her reaction was simply to smile at Harry, fully aware that he had a plan. One that wouldn't get anyone killed, too. That was always a good thing.

The seven Death Eaters and six schoolchildren got into one of the elevators, standing on opposite sides and staring at each other, daring either side to make a move. The elevator doors closed, and the unlikely group began to ascend towards the Atrium. Hermione leaned over and whispered into Harry's ear.

"You _do_ have a plan, don't you, Harry?"

"Of course I do, Hermione. We'll all be fine. Promise." Hermione still looked worried, but didn't question him any further, for which he was grateful. If this was going to work out, he needed complete concentration. The elevator stopped, and the disembodied voice stated "The Atrium". The thirteen of them clambered out of the elevator, the doors sliding shut behind them. They made their way across the empty hall, stopping about ten meters from the fireplaces that would get them out of the Ministry and back to Hogwarts.

"That's far enough, Potter. Your friends will go on alone to Floo back to Hogwarts."

Ron and Hermione were looking at him, no doubt wondering when his plan would kick in. They couldn't know that it wouldn't until after they left. He simply nodded, and pointed to the nearest fireplace. They, however weren't satisfied by that, and drew their wands, aiming at the Death Eaters behind him. He raised one hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples in frustration.

"Ron. Hermione." Not too sharp, but enough to get their attention. "I know what I'm doing. I'll see you at Hogwarts. In fact," Harry looked directly at Hermione, knowing she would understand, "I'll be waiting for you."

Confusion marred her features for a moment, before understanding dawned on her, and she nodded, seizing Ron's arm and dragging him to the fireplace. Neville and Ginny shot him looks that he recognized easily. It was the 'we'll-play-along-for-now-but-you-are-going-to-explain-later' look, or 'Hermione Number 23', as Harry had dubbed it. Luna just danced over to the fireplace without any prompting, disappearing in a blaze of emeral flames. Satisfied that his friends were in hands that Harry trusted - after all, if you couldn't trust yourself, who could you trust? - he turned to face Malfoy and the other Death Eaters, the orb containing the prophecy clenched in his right fist, his left hand slipping into the left outer pocket of his robes.

"Don't bother going for your wand, Potter. There are seven of us and only one of you. You'd be dead before you even touched your wand."

"Oh, I know that Malfoy. But," Harry lifted his head, smirking arrogantly enough to give his father a run for his money, noting as he did so that Voldemort had just arrived. Even better. "I don't need a wand to do _this_." And he disappeared in a flash of golden light. The last thing he heard was Voldemort's scream of rage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~TIME~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
A/N: 50 points to the first person who figures out exactly what Harry just did. Yes, I'm a shameless review whore. I'm a writer, it comes with the territory. Review. (Was that subtle enough, do you think?)


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